


Not Ruined (yet)

by 51PegasiB



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/51PegasiB/pseuds/51PegasiB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve doesn't like it when Tony works through the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Ruined (yet)

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short fic I wrote for [stark-rogers-industries](http://stark-rogers-industries.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.

Tony's eyes flew open. He was in a soft place, tangled in fabric. 

"No," he croaked to himself, "I was in the lab."

He blinked rapidly and sat up without too much effort and looked around. He was in his bedroom. Huh. 

"Jarvis. How did I get here?"

"Captain Rogers deposited you here, Sir," the even-tempered A.I. replied.

"Well, where is he?"

"He left some hours ago, Sir. I believe he was going jogging."

Damn the man and his eternal, un-sleeping buffness.

Jarvis continued, "He disapproves of those instances when you won't leave the lab, sir. You were protesting vociferously when he brought you in."

Uh oh. Tony didn't remember that at all. "Oh, god. Was I a drunken asshole?"

"Far be it from me to characterize it thus."

That was a yes.

"Do you have a recording of that?" Tony asked.

"Naturally, sir," the AI replied.

"Promise you will never, never show it to me," the dark-haired man shifted and levered himself out of bed.

"Acknowledged sir. Lockdown on that clip."

"Ugh. Is there coffee?"

"In a manner of speaking, Sir," the smooth voice replied.

"What does THAT mean?" Tony asked.

"I believe Captain Rogers threw all of the beans in the trash last night after bringing you here, but it is still in the kitchen, sir."

"Fuuuck," Tony said.

"Indeed, Sir." the AI replied. Tony rolled his eyes at that.

He headed for the kitchen, not bothering to change out of the t-shirt and sweatpants he'd apparently collapsed in the night before.

He took the lid off the trash can and found a royal mess there.

"Jarvis, you didn't tell me he had also thrown the booze away," Tony said.

"Yes, well. I estimated your desperation for coffee might be sufficiently strong to make that irrelevant, Sir."

Damn it. The snarky bitbox was right. Tony fished through the seeping, broken glass, gingerly. The bottles had clearly been hurled with some degree of force. Near the bottom, sitting in an inch or two of liquid he found the (miraculously intact) bag of coffee, fished it out. It smelled like whiskey, gin and dark roast: kind of excellent, actually.

He poured some into the huge coffee maker and set it to espresso grind and two minutes later poured a mug full of the black brew and drank it down quickly, burning his throat. He poured a second mug-full and grabbed a tablet to read some journals while he drank. Tony didn't head back down to the lab. He was waiting for Steve to get back and he'd much rather fight in the kitchen than in front of the impressionable bots.

When Steve finally did come in -- in a tank top and track pants, hair damp with sweat, eyes bright -- Tony had read through all his usual sites and was into reading web comics. The large blond man's mouth turned into a thin, hard line when he saw Tony sitting with his mug. He dropped a paper bag onto the table and sat, ramrod straight, in the chair opposite the dark-haired man.

"Bagels," was all Steve said out loud. He looked pointedly at Tony's mug.

"Next time, could you please throw my coffee away last? Not all of us can take the same levels of blood loss that you do, Cap."

Steve's hard look wavered a bit. "Did you get cut, fishing it out?"

"I don't think so. Just a little scratched up."

Steve just kept looking at him. They both knew Tony could've gone to buy more or sent out for more or anything. This was about boundaries.

"I don't like it when you stay up for days in your lab, Tony. It's not healthy," Steve finally said, when the tension got to be too much.

"I don't like it when I get up and find out that you've had a tantrum and then jogged to the edge of Queens," Tony replied.

"Brooklyn, actually," said Steve. "And it wasn't a tantrum. I was angry, but..."

"But what, Cap? I deserve punishment for my addictions? They are a medical problem, you know, not bad behavior. I have studies on it, if you'd like to see them. I am genetically predisposed to addiction. I guess my grandfather was also a raging alcoholic. And my mother, well...I think if you get it from both sides you might just be doomed, you know?"

Steve shook his head through this little tirade, and stared at the table. "You still get to choose your actions."

"And what actions should I choose? Ones that make me miserable?" Tony asked.

Steve pinned him, once again, with his forlorn, exhausted gaze. "The ones that don't scare me to death. How about try that, Tony?" The bigger man stared down at the table, again, and looked so deeply sad, Tony thought he was going to start crying. That broke his defensive mood. He leapt up and rounded the table, wrapping his arms around Steve's shoulders from behind.

"Oh, god, Steve. I am sorry. I really am. I'm an asshole, okay? Please. I will try not to push so much, but sometimes...the lab...it's the only thing that helps, you know? It's the only thing I never ruin. I am sorry. I wish this could be one of those things, too. You and me. I am just so..." Tony trailed off.

Steve put his hands on Tony's elbows, capturing his arms for just a reassuring moment, and then let go.

"You're not ruining anything," Steve said, quietly.

Tony exhaled slowly and raggedly into Steve's hair. _Not for now, anyway._ He thought, _not yet._

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've posted here. I'm working on some longer stuff. I'd love to hear any feedback!


End file.
